Sacrifice
by wineroses
Summary: A sacrifice is not a sacrifice without pain.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One - Prologue**

The drums rang out, loud and strong, pounding a tempo that moved through the ground and sent vibrations through her entire body.

As if she needed anything to add to the nervous tremors that would not go away.

She tried to keep still as she listened to the merrymaking outside of the tent; her village was having a celebration in honor of the god that had come down from the skies to visit them. She'd heard her mother talk about how it had been years since the gods had come down to show their people favor. How it was a privilege to catch a glimpse of the face of one such god, how she should be honored to be offered as a sacrifice to said god. Ororo had sat and listened to those words numbly, trying to keep the tears at bay and be the brave young woman her family expected her to be.

_Offered as a sacrifice._ The very thought made her shudder - not with fear this time, but with anger and indignation. She was not _property_, to be bartered for favors. She was not an object to be offered to stroke the vanity of selfish deities. Ororo was a _person,_ and every second that she sat in the traditional finery of her tribe, waiting to be accepted as a sacrifice and taken to the realm of the gods, her blood boiled with the very unfairness of it all.

"Ororo, look at you." Her sister's voice broke through her thoughts. "You're beautiful."

Ororo gazed up at her sister. Zula was lucky; she was a few years Ororo's senior and already wed. The village would only sacrifice a maiden, pure and untouched by a man. She didn't smile as her sister fussed over the ornate beads that had been braided into her snow-white hair. Zula adjusted the ceremonial garb that Ororo was wrapped in.

"It's going to be okay," Zula said softly, cupping her younger sister's chin in her hands.

"How can you possibly know that?" There was no anger in her voice for her sister, only despair. "I will never see you again!"

"But I know that you will be smiling down at me from the heavens," Zula replied with a smile. "After this night, Ororo, whenever I look up at the stars, I will think of you and know that you are walking among the gods. Think of how wonderful that will be!"

Ororo gazed back at her sister sadly. _Those who do not bleed for the sacrifice feel no pain to offer it,_ she thought to herself. Aloud, she said nothing.

"Ororo!" She heard her mother's voice call softly through the flap of the tent. "It is time."

He was satisfied with this tribe, he thought. It had been far too long since he had paid them a visit, and the feast they'd set out in his honor reminded him of how much he missed these trips to Midgard. The men looked upon him with awe and reverence; the women clung to his every word, his every movement, with adoration in their eyes, and the children gathered about him excitedly, some too young to remember when last he visited, but recalling the stories they'd been told by their parents nonetheless.

Odin's eye fell upon the heaps of gifts they'd lavished him with. Piles and piles of handmade trinkets, each signifying something different. Beautiful woven garments, ornate carved figurines, beads and baubles and strings of jewelry. There were even a few hand-crafted weapons among the gifts, and he looked with approval upon them. As he was wont to do whenever he visited, he would take these things back home to Asgard, and give them to his family.

The tempo of the drums changed, and a hush fell over the crowd of merrymakers. The chief of the tribe, who sat to Odin's right, leaned over.

"My lord," he began. "See, we have selected a maiden for you as a sacrifice."

Odin heard the words the chief whispered to him about the young woman, but he paid them little attention as the maiden was brought before him. She was young, very young, and even though the set of her face was stoic, he could see the tremors that racked her slender limbs, the fear and turmoil in her cerulean eyes.

"What is your name, maiden?" He thundered out, amid the hushed calm of the crowd.

She stepped forward, her shoulders squared, and looked him directly in his eye. "Ororo," she answered, her voice soft but clear.

He nodded, appraising her with his eyes. She was beautiful, he noted. Her skin was dark, the color of the bark of the folkbjörn trees on Asgard, but her long, braided hair was as white as Odin's own snow-colored locks. Though she was young and slender, she maintained an impressive height, and he could see that her figure had already started to fill out.

_She will be a gift for Thor, _Odin decided. His firstborn was to be coming of age soon, and he and the maiden seemed to be of comparable years. _Perhaps she will do well as his personal servant_.

Ororo watched Odin, wondering what he was thinking behind that one wise eye of his. She could feel the presence of her family a few feet behind her, but she refused to break eye contact with the god before her. _He mustn't think I'm weak, or else he will just kill me before we even get to Asgard_, she reasoned. _There is no place for the weak among the gods in the sky_.

"Ororo," Odin finally repeated, gracing her with a smile that was not ungentle. "Have you prepared yourself for a life away from your family and friends?"

Ororo's breath caught in her throat, and viciously, she tamped down the wave of emotion that threatened to break free. Blinking back the tears that sat just behind her eyelids and swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded. "I beg of your favor, oh great and wise One," she recited from memory what her mother had taught her to say, should this day ever come. "I leave behind my family, my friends, and my village and pledge my life in service to you. My only wish is that I be a worthy sacrifice."

The Allfather nodded slowly, accepting her recitation. "Very well then," he conceded. "Let us away to the Realm Eternal."

Her heart dropped to her feet at his words. She knew about the warrior culture of the gods of Asgard - her mother had told her stories of how their children were trained to fight almost before they were able to walk. They thought nothing of offering up blood sacrifices, of killing innocent women and children if it would tip the scales to their favor in battle.

She shuddered involuntarily. Part of her wanted to kick and scream, to claw her way back to her mother and father, to cling to them and refuse to be offered up as a sacrifice, refuse to give her life up. But the other part of her, the part that frightened her the most, was willing to go along with it, to embrace the thought of ending her life prematurely. Ororo fought the temptation to run back to her parents, steeling herself with the thought that, no matter what happened from this point on, she'd done the honorable thing and secured favor for her people.

She did not look back as she followed the Allfather to her fate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Her legs still wobbly from the trip through the portal, Ororo took a few steps forward, her eyes wide as she attempted to take in her surroundings. Everything was aesthetically stunning - it was almost as though the entire spherical room they stood in had been dipped in gold, including the man that stood before them.

His skin was dark, she noted, almost as dark as her own, and as she looked up into his stoic face, she took in his amber colored eyes. Though his face remained emotionless, she thought briefly that she could see the slightest hint of surprise in those golden eyes of his, and despite the trembling in her limbs, she flashed him a smile.

"Welcome to Asgard," he greeted her, in a voice that was as deep and rich as the night sky itself. He did not smile back at her, but his expression was somewhat pleasant nonetheless.

"Thank you," she replied. The Allfather said nothing, but nodded slightly at Heimdall as he passed, and Ororo hurried to keep up, thanking the stars for her long legs.

They exited the ornate golden dome, and her mouth dropped open wide at the view before her. They stood on a bridge that looked made of spun glass of all the hues of the rainbow. The colors flashed beneath the smooth surface, churning hypnotically and making Ororo nearly dizzy. One look away from the surface below them yielded her an even more spectacular view: that of the stars. Ororo felt she had the entire universe in front of her. The night sky was as black as jeweler's velvet, draped above them but hanging very low, with diamonds of stars scattered all across it. She recalled all the times she'd sat outside of her mother and father's house, out in the fields, listening to the wild animals howl and gazing up in wonder at the hundreds of stars she could see. Those nights couldn't even come close to comparing to what she was seeing with those same eyes now.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Ororo jumped at the voice in her ear, and she realized that the Allfather stood a few inches away from her, watching as she admired the view.

"How do you live like this?" She asked openly. "With so much beauty at your disposal, how do you ever get anything done?"

This tickled Odin, and he chuckled softly. "I suppose it will sound strange to you for me to say that you become accustomed to it - so much so that you hardly notice it anymore."

Ororo's brow furrowed. "Oh," she offered quietly.

Odin studied her for a moment. "I know that you are afraid," he started. "But there is no reason to be. Your people offered you up as a sacrifice, none knowing what happened to you after you ascended with me to the sky. Some may think that your life ended at that moment. Others will think you transformed into an immortal being. They will miss you dearly, especially your family and your friends."

"What will happen to me?" Ororo asked, dreading the answer but needing to know anyway.

"Do not be afraid," Odin assured her again. "Our culture is a warrior culture, but we are not barbaric. You shall keep your life."

She breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Thank you," she replied sincerely.

"But you are a sacrifice," Odin continued, "and your people offered you up as such with the intention of gaining the favor of the gods. And so you shall be a servant." He watched her face carefully. Her expression was unreadable. "My son, Thor, is my firstborn and the crown prince. He will be coming of age soon, and it is acceptable for him to have a personal servant."

Ororo's heart thumped in her chest. _So I am to be a concubine_, she thought miserably. _It would have been better for him to kill me._ Aloud, she said nothing.

Odin watched her for a moment longer, waiting for her to speak. When she didn't, he let out a tiny sigh of his own. He turned toward the attendant that was waiting nearby with a horse and chariot. There was another horse in addition to the one that pulled the chariot, and Ororo's eyes widened as she realized that horse had eight legs.

"Take her and the other gifts to the palace," Odin ordered the attendant. "See to it that she is bathed and given fresh clothing. She is to be presented as a gift to Thor before the royal court. I will be along shortly."

The attendant nodded, piling the other gifts into the chariot. He motioned to Ororo to get up into the chariot, and she obliged him silently, her heart still pounding in her chest, fearful of what was to come.

Ororo gazed at herself in the looking-glass. She hardly recognized the girl who stared back at her. This girl - this _young woman_ - had been made to look like the gods she now walked among. She'd been bathed by other servants, and that in itself was a new experience for her - she was used to taking care of her own hygiene, and it had been a bit unnerving when others had been assigned to do the job for her. They'd rubbed her down with perfumed oil, the likes of which she'd never smelled before, and dressed her in garb fitting enough for a princess. The material was silk, smooth and shiny, and the crimson hue stood out and contrasted nicely with her dark skin. She'd been draped in accents of gold - a chain link belt that hung loosely around her narrow waist, earrings made to look like feathered wings out of the thinnest gold she had ever seen, gold sandals for her feet. Her long white hair had been taken out of its braids and washed. One of the servants had fussed over it for a long time, marvelling at the color of it, before finally braiding it in one long braid that she tied with a gold ribbon and hung over Ororo's left shoulder.

The girl who had braided her hair came to stand behind her. "It's time," she said simply to Ororo's reflection.

Ororo nodded. "What is your name?" She asked suddenly, on impulse.

The girl gazed at her in surprise. "Cecilia," she answered softly, smiling a little.

"It's…" Ororo took a deep breath. "What's going to happen to me?"

Cecilia averted her eyes. "You'll be given to the crown prince as a gift, I hear," she answered.

"But what after that?" Ororo pressed. "What will happen to me once I'm presented?"

"I do not know," Cecilia answered carefully.

Ororo stared at the other young woman for a long time without speaking, trying to read the expression on her face. Finally, she nodded. "Very well, then," she conceded quietly. "Shall I follow you?"

"Thor," Odin boomed from his place on the throne, high above the rest of the royal court. "My son, my firstborn, heir to the throne."

The son he spoke to looked on with a smile, his expression one Ororo had seen sometimes on the faces of the young warriors in her village - cocky, self-assured. She watched him, as did the rest of the assembly, trying to still her trembling limbs.

"Many gifts were bestowed upon me during my recent journey to Midgard," Odin continued. "The greatest sacrifice of all, however, was offered by one family - that of their youngest daughter." Odin turned to Ororo, who stood off to the side, nearly out of sight of the assembly until he brought his attention to her. He reached out his arm, motioning with his hand for her to come forward. "Thor," he said, turning back to his firstborn, "To honor your coming of age, I present to you this sacrifice. A young maiden, now yours to serve you as a gift."

Ororo stared at Thor for a long time before remembering her place. Shaking herself slightly, she bowed to her knees, lowering her head and holding up her arms in a position that signified her willingness to serve. Her heart pounded in her chest, the blood beating furiously through her veins, as she waited for a response from the crown prince.

Thor gazed down at the woman in front of him. She was beautiful, and he wondered to himself if his father was trying to fool him, to pass off this divine creature as a mortal. He wished to say so aloud, but in the fashion of young, arrogant men, he kept his kind words to himself.

"I accept this gift, Allfather," he addressed Odin. "And I thank you for it." He looked down at Ororo. "Get up."

She raised her head, gazing at him curiously, her body hesitant to move.

"I said _get up_," he snapped again, sneering down at her. "Are you dumb?"

Startled, Ororo obeyed him, scrambling to her feet. But she was not used to the long skirts of the gown she wore, and her feet became tangled in the material. Before she could stop herself, she'd stumbled over the garment and fallen, landing her in a heap at the prince's feet.

He roared with laughter. "What have you given me, my father?" He boomed out, among the titters of the court. "Is it yet too late to return this defective gift and exchange it for another that works properly?"

"Thor." The one word was uttered from the woman who stood at the Allfather's side. She was beautiful, with a quiet grace that exuded elegance, and Ororo realized that this must be the queen. She stood, gazing upon Thor with the stern expression that only mothers could give to their children.

The crown prince huffed a sigh, his expression only slightly apologetic as he fell silent.

Ororo's face burned with embarrassment. She tried to reserve some of her dignity as she rose to stand, but the eyes of the entire crowd were now on her, including the prince who was still laughing quietly at her misfortune, not having bothered to help her to her feet.

He turned on his heel, gracing her with just one look of disdain before turning to walk away. Assuming she was to follow him, Ororo gathered her skirts in her fists, determined not to make the same mistake of tripping over them, and hurried to keep up with her new master.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_"Oof!"_

There was a clatter and a thud as the tray Ororo carried slipped from her arms and landed on the stone of the bathing room floor, spilling its contents - namely, the crown prince's breakfast. Ororo herself followed not long after, her body hitting the ground gracelessly.

_It's been two years, and I still haven't learned how to walk in these damned gowns,_ she thought, as she cast a frustrated glance at the spoilt breakfast tray.

The sound of water met her ears, and she looked up just in time to see the crown prince himself rising from the bath, golden and glistening and looking every bit the god he was. Ororo drew in a sharp breath as he ascended the steps, averting her eyes at the emergence of his nude form, but not nearly quickly enough.

_Two years, and I still haven't gotten used to that, either._

He stood there, water dripping from every inch of his muscular body, and watched her as she collected the items that had scattered about the floor. She kept her eyes to the ground, not wanting to run the risk of seeing his full body exposed to her.

When she'd collected everything and placed it back on the tray, she stood carefully, bending at the waist to retrieve the heavy silver dish. She faced away from him, her only thought sparing her eyes from her master's body, not realizing that she was giving _him_ an eyeful.

Thor cocked his head to the side, staring unabashedly at the view before him. Two years had done her body good, he noted with mild surprise as she bent over, giving him a lovely view of her firm, round ass. She'd never been particularly scrawny, but those years had filled her curves out, rounding her backside into something firm and plump that not even a deity could deny the appeal of. Her breasts, too, had matured, leaving behind the tiny round peaks they had been to morph into exquisitely heavy mounds that made him think of ripe melons.

Ororo's face flushed as she felt his eyes on her, and inwardly, she cursed the wave of arousal that hit her as she considered his appraisal of her. She straightened carefully, balancing the tray in one hand and lifting her skirts out of the way of her feet with the other.

She turned back to face him, making sure to keep her eyes above his neck.

"I am sorry, my lord," she offered softly, her face still flushed and warm. He made no attempt to cover himself, and it made Ororo all the more aware of how aroused she was. "I will go quickly and return with another tray."

Finally, he moved, shaking his head. "There is no need," he replied dismissively. "I will go to the dining hall." He turned to walk out of the bathing room, and this time, Ororo didn't bother to avert her eyes.

_It's only fair that I get to look upon him the way he looked upon me,_ she reasoned with herself. She watched him as he walked away, admiring the way every toned muscle in his body rippled with every step he took. Thor's body was truly magnificent, a genuine work of art, and although she would never admit it, she'd spent many a night in her own bed, her fingers ghosting over her body's most intimate parts as she fantasized about what it would feel like if _he_ were touching her instead.

But alas, he had yet to touch her.

_Her legs were long, but his were longer, and her steps were no match for his stride. Ororo practically ran behind him as he strode down the hallways of the palace, the red silk of her gown bunched tightly in her fists, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. _

_She was so intent on making sure that she didn't fall that she wasn't paying attention when he stopped abruptly in front of a set of double doors._

_"Norns alive!" He exploded thunderously as she ran into the back of him. "Can you not control those limbs of yours?"_

_"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice trembling almost as violently as the aforementioned limbs. "I am sorry, my lord."_

_He pushed open the doors in front of him, motioning with his head for her to enter first. She obliged him silently, slipping into the room and hovering near the entrance as he shut the door behind them. _

So this is it, then, _she thought to herself, watching as he moved over to the bed and began removing the ceremonial armor he'd worn at the assembly. _This is how I lose my maidenhood. _She swallowed thickly, her heart tapping out a frantic staccato behind her ribs. _

_"Well?" He stated abruptly, jarring her out of her thoughts. "What are you waiting for? Draw me a bath; I'm tired."_

_Ororo hesitated for only a split second before moving toward the high-arched doorway near the back of the room. From where she stood, she could see that it was the bathing room, and it looked massive._

_She'd only just figured out how to get the water running into the tub when he entered the washroom, completely naked. Ororo started violently - she'd never seen a naked man before - and would have fallen head first into the tub had it not been for Thor's quick reflexes. His hand darted out, catching her thin wrist in his palm and pulling her toward him. _

_"You are clumsy," he remarked bluntly, pushing her out of the way of the tub._

_"I am unaccustomed to these garments," she countered softly. "My people do not know of such finery."_

_He raised one blonde eyebrow. "Then what do you wear when you wish to dress up for a ceremony?"_

_"Nothing quite so long as this," she replied, motioning to the red gown. The bottom of it was slightly darker than the rest of the material, having gotten dragged through the water at the edge of the entrance to the tub. "Most times, when we wish to dress up, we wear garb that is unique to our tribe and our family. But it normally stops about here," she added, pointing to the area just above her knees. _

_He made a noncommittal noise as he descended the steps into the bath. _

_Ororo stood to the side, her hands clasped nervously in front of her as she awaited further instruction. When it was clear that he had no further plans to acknowledge her presence, she spoke up._

_"Is there... Is there anything else you require of me?"_

_He dove beneath the surface of the water, immersing himself in the warmth of it, wetting his hair and his face. "No," he said, when he broke the surface of the bath again. "You may go." He paused briefly. "Your quarters will be those adjoined to the west wing of my bedchambers," he explained. "You will find that the door can be bolted on my side of the room, but not on yours. Rarely do I bolt the door on my side, but if you should happen to find it as such, do not disturb me."_

_She nodded, mulling over what he'd told her. _So he can enter and exit my room as he pleases, _she surmised. _But not the other way around.

_"Dismissed," he said, with an air of finality, and Ororo retired to her chambers, to anxiously await him to come to her._

But he never came, and over time, Ororo realized that her station as Thor's personal servant was not that of a concubine. It was just what it had been called; she was his personal servant, there to do his bidding. She fetched his meals when he did not feel like entertaining at the dining hall. She drew his baths, kept his chambers clean and neat, and ran errands for him whenever he asked her to.

And so Ororo remained a maiden, untouched by a man, because there was nothing whatsoever sexual about her servitude to her master.

But sometimes, in the dead of night, when she woke after dreaming of his body stretched over hers, she wished it were otherwise.

"Why haven't you fucked her yet?"

Sif turned her head sharply at the question, posed crassly by Loki. "Loki," she warned.

"What?" The god of mischief poked his brother in the side. "It is an altogether legitimate question. It isn't as though she hasn't the form for fucking. I've seen her in those sheaths."

"Hold your tongue, Loki," Sif warned again. "You speak of her with disrespect."

"Oh, come now, Sif," Loki argued, rolling his eyes. "She is a mortal, and you and I both know you have no more respect for her than I do, regardless of the fact you share anatomy. And I repeat: my question is a legitimate one. What is the point of having a personal servant if you don't take advantage of all the... _perks _that come with it?"

"She is just that - a personal servant," Thor replied, shrugging one thick shoulder. "I have no lack of women that would share my bed; why should I force her to do so when so many may do it willingly?"

Loki shrugged his own shoulders. "Then perhaps you would not mind if I borrowed her for a night or two."

Thor glanced at him sharply. "There is no lack of female company in your bed, either - I know this as our chambers rest across the hall from one another. You do not need my servant."

Loki pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Be that as it may, I have never bedded a mortal of Africa. Her skin holds a certain appeal for me. I wish to add her to the list of races my conquests have been."

Thor shook his head firmly. "No," he replied simply. "Do not ask me again, brother - you try my patience."

"Very well then," Loki conceded with a laugh. "I shan't ask again. I was only teasing anyway."

Ororo listened with disdain from her nearby post, where she stood and waited patiently for Thor to finish his breakfast. After he had eaten, he would go back to his chambers, and she would help him don his everyday armor for the morning's sessions. Once he'd gone down to the training yards, Ororo was free to do as she pleased, by herself, for the three or four hours that he would train. She looked forward to that time every day.

The conversation pricked a hole in her pride - even after two years of being a servant to a god, she never got used to the way conversation about her was carried on as though she weren't even there. Such was the way of servitude, though, and Ororo knew better than to lash out at those whose mercy she was under.

_And to be fair,_ she thought to herself with an internal sigh of relief, _I know I won't be handed over to that cruel brother of his._ The thought alone made her shudder, and she glanced at the god of mischief briefly, wondering what kind of hell Loki would have reserved for her had Thor ceded to his wishes. _Thankfully, I'll never have to find out._

"Ororo!" Thor thundered, rising from the table.

She snapped to attention, hurrying over to where he stood.

Thor turned to face his friends. "I shall see you on the training field shortly," he promised with a smile. "I hope you are all ready to be defeated in the basest of ways." Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and left, leaving Ororo to scramble after him in her unreasonably long gown.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The morning greeted her warmly. Sunshine pierced its way through the fluffy clouds, shining bars of warm golden light through the pearly white puffs. A fresh breeze caressed her hair, and she turned her face up to the sky, soaking it all in.

_A sacrifice is not a sacrifice without pain._

Those were words her mother had whispered to her, two years ago, before she ascended to Asgard. Ororo could vouch for the truth of those words. She'd given up many things in order to fulfill her role as a sacrifice, a gift to the gods to curry favor. She only hoped that her people were benefitting from the sacrifice, that the gods were smiling down on them with favor.

She picked her way through the soft green grass of the outskirts of the realm, unhurriedly making her way toward her special place. The tall grass tickled her bare legs; during the free time that Thor allowed her every day while he was training, she forsook the long, elegant Asgardian gowns in favor of garments fashioned after her tribe's traditional garb. It wasn't the quite the same as being home, but the garments made her feel close enough to it, and Ororo was comfortable in them.

She stopped suddenly, her skin prickling with an odd sensation, like she was being watched. She turned abruptly, her eyes darting in all directions of the open field, but she saw nothing.

"You are going mad, Ororo," she muttered to herself, shaking her head as she took up walking again. "Next you'll be hearing voices."

Loki smirked to himself, watching from beneath his cloak of invisibility as the mortal picked her way along the path she'd worn into the tall grass. He didn't know how long she'd been coming out this way, but he'd only just discovered her a fortnight ago.

She was uninteresting to observe at best, and had Loki not grown so tired of watching his brother and friends batter each other half to death on the training grounds every day, he would have left off watching her in favor of some other mischief. But as he was in most matters, Loki was uncontrolled in his lust, and he had determined that if his brother would not properly deflower her, he would have Thor's maiden for himself.

Loki followed her until she stopped, sitting down to rest in the soft grass, stretching her long limbs out and turning her face to the sun. He weaved a spell over them both, shielding them from Heimdall's all-seeing eyes, and let his cloak of invisibility fall.

Ororo's eyes were still closed.

"And what have we here?" Loki inquired with a chuckle, his voice as smooth as warm honey.

Ororo's eyes flew open, and she shot bolt upright, gazing at him in alarm. "How did y-you...?" She sputtered, unable to form cohesive thoughts.

The god of mischief flashed her a smile that was positively predatory, and it dawned on Ororo just how much trouble she was in.

No one knew where she went during her free time, because no one cared.

She scrambled to her feet, and briefly her brain told her that her body was thankful her clothes were conducive to moving around quickly and freely. She made as if to run, and Loki advanced on her.

"Going somewhere, Pet?" He grasped her wrist in his hand, pulling her to him.

"I must go back to Thor," she protested, wriggling in his grasp. But his grip was iron-tight, and he would not let go.

"Whatever for?" He cooed, pulling her even closer to him. "He is not yet done training. Why waste your free time going back to him?" He chuckled into her skin, nuzzling his nose along her cheekbone. "You could have so much more fun here with me."

She continued to wriggle in his arms, but he was much stronger. "What do you want from me?" She asked, pausing in her squirming for a moment.

"Oh, I think you know very well what I want from you," he answered darkly, his pupils dilated with lust. He ran a finger along the line of her jaw, and Ororo took a deep, shaky breath.

"I-I'm not..." She shook her head, trying to get her thoughts together, and fast. She was still trying to wriggle her way out of Loki's grasp, and he'd managed to get her shirt off, ripping it free of her abdomen and exposing everything that her breast bindings did not cover. "I'm yet a maiden!" She cried desperately, feeling his hands move beneath the short wrap that she wore over her bottom half.

"I know," he replied nonchalantly, his long, slender fingers making their way up to the apex between her thighs. He raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you wear nothing to cover your sex," he pointed out. "For an untried maiden, 'tis such a wanton, brazen habit, one that only a strumpet would dare."

She shook her head vigorously. "No, you misunderstand," she countered, pushing his hand away. "It is only for comfort-"

But Loki was not listening. Ororo scratched at what skin she could reach. It was not much - he was covered in the black and green leather and metal he seemed to favor - and pummeled at him with her small fists. Nothing seemed to deter him, and Ororo became more frantic as he pushed her to the ground and forced his weight on top of her.

She gazed up at the sky, her distracted mind somehow registering that it was no longer blue. The clouds had completely enveloped the sun, casting a dark gray hue over the entire atmosphere. The wind was starting to pick up, and distantly, Ororo could hear the rumble of thunder.

This last gave Loki pause, and he looked up to the sky. "Curious," he murmured.

He was pulling at her wrap now, trying to rip the fabric apart. Ororo fought him every step of the way, her fingertips scrabbling for purchase at his armor. Frantically, she reached up to claw at the skin of his face, and he jumped back as blue sparks shot out of her fingertips, injecting electricity into his skin and singeing the pale flesh.

"You little _bitch!"_ He shouted, putting one hand up to his burned and sizzling cheek. His other hand came down, hard, and his open palm connected with her face. Ororo shrieked as red streaks danced across her vision and she was momentarily blinded by pain. "How dare you!" He lifted himself off of her, standing to his full height and delivering a swift kick to her ribs. She yelped in pain, and more sparks of electricity shot from her fingertips, connecting solidly with his leg. He grit his teeth in agony, and thunder roared as sheets of rain began to fall from the sky. The wind howled and screamed, whipping around them like a tornado, as Ororo scrambled to her hands and knees, searching for her blouse. Loki kicked her once more, screaming at her in a language she did not understand, before completely winking out of her line of sight.

She sniffled as the rain came down and drenched her, holding her shredded shirt to her chest and rising gingerly to her feet. She whimpered in pain at her bruised side, drawing shallow breaths and trying to keep the pain at bay, steeling herself for the long walk back to the palace.

_She woke to the sound of voices._

_Ororo sat up in her bed, sleep still heavy behind her eyelids as she tried to place what was happening. The voices were coming from the other side of the wall. The deeper, male voice was obviously Thor's; she'd been his servant for the better part of a year and would have recognized the tone and cadence of his voice anywhere._

_The other voice was that of a woman._

_She climbed out of her small bed and padded over to the wall that joined her bedchambers and Thor's. The voices were louder and more clear now, and faintly, Ororo registered a rhythmic knocking sound. She put her ear to the wall._

_"Ohhhh, Thor," the female voice asserted breathlessly. "Ahh..."_

_She heard Thor's voice again, then, but he wasn't exactly speaking words. He grunted, his breath quick and strained, and suddenly, Ororo realized what she was hearing. She clapped a hand over her mouth and scrambled back to her bed, her face burning with embarrassment even though she knew she'd been neither seen nor heard. _

_She wondered who the nameless, faceless woman that shared Thor's bed was. Lying back on her pillows, she shifted uncomfortably, still able to hear the muffled sounds coming from her master's room. She sighed, preparing herself for a long, sleepless night._

The rain was still pouring as she entered her chambers, limping and clutching her torn shirt to her chest. She knew she was late, and she dreaded what would happen when she finally ran into Thor. Quietly, she shut the door behind her, her intent to bathe quickly and find him so she could apologize for her tardiness.

"Where have you been?"

His voice startled her, and she spun around, dropping her blouse. "Oh," she squeaked in surprise, utterly astonished at the sight of her master sitting on the edge of her tiny bed.

His brow furrowed as he took in her appearance. She was disheveled and soaked from head to toe, her long white hair mussed and hanging free of the braid she normally wore it in. He took note of the torn shirt in her hands and the way she was limping, and a flash of jealousy hit him.

Perhaps another man was the reason she came to him late, in her current condition.

Perhaps another man had taken it upon himself to deflower her. This angered him - though he had not touched her intimately, she was still _his_ servant, and as such, her body belonged to him.

He gazed at her attire again, narrowing his eyes. "What in the Nine are you wearing?"

Ororo's cheeks flushed, and suddenly she remembered everything that had happened in the last hour. Her face crumpled, and she began to cry.

Thor seemed unsure of what to do. He stood and approached her carefully, torn between needing to exert his dominance as her master and wanting to find out what had upset her so. "Ororo," he said sharply, deciding on the former. "I asked you a question."

She gazed up at him tearfully, trying to get her sobbing under control. He was looking down at her sternly, his blue eyes cold and unyielding, and she took a deep breath. "I-I... went to the outskirts," she stammered. "It is where I always go while you are at training."

"And you thought that today it would be acceptable for you to forget your duties in favor of your free time," Thor surmised, his voice steely. "Is that true?"

"No!" She cried tearfully, shaking her head back and forth.

"Then why were you late?"

Ororo's heart thumped loudly in her chest. She knew better than to tell Thor what had happened - or what had _almost_ happened - with his brother. Making an accusation of someone in the royal family came with heavy consequences, especially if there were no witnesses and no proof. But how else could she explain herself if she didn't tell him?

And then there was the matter of what had happened with the weather, and the sparks of lightning she'd expelled from her fingers. It had never happened before, and Ororo was terrified of what it might mean. Was she cursed? All these thoughts flew through her head as she stood face-to-face with the god of thunder, watching his anger intensify as her fear grew.

_Thwack!_

She missed the moment when his heavy hand connected with her face, but it happened anyway, and the sting of the blow was enough to bring fresh tears to her eyes. She put a hand to her face, staring up at him with wide, watery eyes.

"You will _not_ forget your place," Thor hissed, putting one hand on each of her shoulders and shaking her roughly. "You are a _servant_. That means you are entitled to nothing. _Nothing_, do you understand? The time I give you away from your duties is a courtesy, an act of kindness on my part that you have done nothing to deserve. Do not forget that the next time you are tempted to shirk your responsibilities." He let go of her shoulders, pushing her away roughly and stalking toward the door that joined their chambers. "Now go clean yourself up."

Ororo watched him go, too shocked to move for the first few seconds after he'd slammed the door behind him. Her shoulders rose and fell with astonished sobs as tears coursed down her face unheeded. Thor's wrath was nothing she wanted to incur again, and so she forced herself to move toward her bathing room, saving her tears for later on, when she could cry in earnest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Thor paced the room much like a large cat, his footsteps heavy as he walked the length of his chambers.

If he were being honest with himself, he would have admitted that the way he'd treated Ororo was harsh. Something had very obviously distressed her, but instead of taking the time to find out what it was, he'd shouted at her, chastised her like she was nothing more than a wayward child.

And he'd struck her.

It was something he'd never done before, because he'd had no need to. Ororo was a good servant, mortal and clumsy though she was. She was ever attentive to his needs, always obedient, and tried her best in everything she did.

But she was just that - a servant, and Thor could not allow her to forget that fact. If she felt it allowable for her to get away with tardiness in her duties, what else would she attempt?

He reasoned with himself on this point, trying to ignore the feeling of guilt that gnawed its way into his head.

"_Ororo!" Thor thundered drunkenly. "Bring me more wine!"_

"_Yes, my lord," she called, already at his elbow with a fresh decanter. She tried to ignore the way the woman lying in his bed was looking at her curiously. Ororo could not remember her name; she was just one of many that Thor had brought into his bedchambers of late._

"_Thor," the blonde woman drawled, just as inebriated as the god she addressed, "why do you keep this one around? She is mortal, is she not?"_

_Thor nodded, flicking his gaze briefly over Ororo. "Aye," he answered, taking a generous gulp of wine from his mug. _

"_Is she a good fuck?"_

_Ororo's face burned, her blood boiling within her veins at the woman's lewd question. She held her tongue, though, pretending not to hear the conversation. _

"_Why so interested?" Thor chuckled, setting his cup of wine on the nightstand next to his bed as he rolled over on top of the woman. Ororo's face flushed even more warmly as the sheet that had been covering his hips slid down, exposing his bronzed backside to her. She watched, unable to look away, as the woman wrapped her legs around him. _

"_Thor, I think we're giving your mortal plaything a show," the woman giggled, peeking over his shoulder at Ororo. "She seems rather mesmerized."_

"_Then let her watch," the thunderer rumbled into the skin of her throat before placing a sloppy, wet kiss there. "Perhaps she will learn something."_

Ororo sat on the edge of the bed, trying to get her emotions under control. She was seized with sudden anger directed toward her family, and it surprised her.

_Had they never sent me here, I would not be going through this,_ she thought bitterly. Words that had passed through her mind on the eve of her ascension to Asgard with the Allfather once more pushed themselves to the forefront of her thoughts.

_**Those who do not bleed for the sacrifice feel no pain to offer it.**_

What would her life be like had she never had to leave behind her home and her family? She wondered. Would she have married? Raised a family? Would she have learned the skill of a warrior?

She would never know.

Instead, she was trapped here on a world that was not her home, a world she didn't belong to, and never would. She served a man who was tolerant of her at best, a man whose very brother had, only this morning, tried to force himself on her. A man who had completely disregarded her feelings, treating her only as the property she supposed she was.

And he'd struck her.

Despite this, Ororo thought with dismay, she still felt a sense of loyalty to him. _You fool, _she chastised herself. _This man - this __**god **__- cares nothing for you. He looks at you only as a slave, only as property, a servant to do his every bidding._ A wave of jealousy rose in her heart as she thought of the many women he shared his bed with. She could deny with her mouth and her mind as much as she wanted, but with her heart, she could not ignore how much she longed for him to look upon her with the same desire he did so many of the Asgardian women he brought back to his chambers, to treat her with the tender affection he reserved for those immortal goddesses.

_Fool,_ she scolded herself again. _You are better off back in the fields of the outskirts, with the wild animals that roam there and the god of mischief that lurks in the shadows, waiting for the opportune time to force your maidenhood from you. _

_At least then,_ she thought bitterly, _it would be over and done with, and no more would you have the shame of a woman that has never been intimately known by a man._

And was it really so important? She wondered.

_Yes, _she thought. _To be intimately known by a man is to be wanted, to be desired, to be will I ever be beautiful if I am never the object of anyone's desire?_

"What do you want, Loki?" Thor asked his brother rudely, leaving the door open as Loki sauntered in.

"Am I not allowed to come and fellowship with my brother?" The trickster asked smoothly, a smile pasted onto his face.

"You never, as you so eloquently put it, 'fellowship' with me," Thor countered, his eyes narrowed. "And what happened to your face?"

Loki's lip curled up into a sneer. "Your little Midgardian slave burned me," he snapped. "I will heal it. But I wanted you to see it for yourself."

Thor gazed at his younger brother in surprise. "Loki, what manner of trickery is this? I do not have time for your games."

"It is not trickery," Loki replied. "She struck me with lightning from her fingertips."

Thor narrowed his eyes again. "And how would she do that?" He asked doubtfully. "More importantly, _why_ would she do that?"

"It is of little consequence," Loki replied, waving a hand dismissively.

Thor watched his cunning little brother carefully as Loki made his way around the room, moving with almost feline grace as he inspected Thor's belongings. Thor's mind flashed to the way Ororo had been crying and limping when she'd entered her chambers, how her clothing had been torn and disheveled and she'd clearly been in a state of distress. "Loki," he started slowly, "what did you do?"

His brother gazed at him innocently. "Whatever do you mean?"

Thor was at his brother's side in a flash, his hand around the younger god's neck as he breathed heavily in anger. "Do not trifle with me! Did you… _touch her?"_

Loki shrugged, remaining infuriatingly calm even as his brother squeezed the breath out of him. "What need would I have to touch her?" He wheezed.

Thor recalled their conversation at the breakfast table, anger flashing in his eyes. Thunder rumbled outside, and Loki looked nervously toward the window.

"Her virtue is intact," Loki finally relented. "I did nothing to breach her maidenhead. I tried," he admitted candidly, "but like I told you, she struck me with lightning from her fingertips."

Thor released his grip on his brother's neck, shaking him once more before letting him go. "I will deal with you later," he growled, stalking over to the door that adjoined his room and Ororo's.

"_Tell me of your family."_

_Ororo gazed down at him in surprise, astonished that he wanted to know something about the life she'd left behind when she came to Asgard. He'd never asked about it before, and she hesitated a moment before replying. _

"_My parents live near the edge of the village," she started, trying to still the trembling in her hands as she worked the small comb through his wet hair. "My mother is a seamstress, and my father has a field where he raises crops. My sister, Zula, lived with us until last year, when she wed." _

"_Is she older or younger than you?" He closed his eyes and leaned his head back into her touch. _

"_Older," Ororo answered. _

"_Mm," Thor hummed. "And what of you? Were you not to be wed as well?"_

_Her breath hitched in her throat, and she tried to ignore the pang in her chest at his question. "Perhaps if I had stayed," she answered carefully. "But it was a sacrifice that I was willing to make for my people."_

_Thor was silent for a moment. "You are brave," he stated quietly. "It must not have been easy for you to leave behind the only life you have ever known and loved for a life of uncertainty."_

_She didn't answer, but the nervous beating of her heart against his head told him that he was right. _

"Ororo," Thor called.

She started in the bathwater, and her bruised ribs screamed in protest, forcing a cry from her mouth. She clamped her lips shut tightly, praying that he hadn't heard her.

"I know you're in here," Thor called, and his voice was markedly closer this time. "I'm coming in."

"No!" She cried frantically, her eyes falling on her towel, which sat on the other side of the bathroom. "I am not… I am unclothed," she added weakly.

He entered the bathroom anyway, and Ororo's heart sank to her feet when she realized that her body was clearly visible beneath the bathwater. She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself and looking everywhere but at him.

"Ororo," he said again, standing near the edge of the tub.

"Yes, my lord?" She answered him quietly, her eyes on her feet.

"What did he do to you?"

She glanced up at him sharply, trying to school her face into a mask of confusion. "I beg of your pardon?"

"Do not pretend you know nothing of what I speak," Thor snapped harshly. "What did Loki do to you? Answer me now."

"N-nothing," she stammered, her blue eyes meeting his fearfully.

"_Do not lie to me!"_ He grabbed her arm, yanking her up out of the water. She gasped in pain and shock, scrambling to cover herself, but he stilled her arms. His brow furrowed at the bruises on her dark skin, and his eyes narrowed in anger. He put a hand to the side where her ribs were bruised, pressing his palm to her tender skin.

"Ow," she gasped, crumpling under his touch.

"I… I am sorry," he offered softly. He looked down into her eyes. "Tell me truthfully, Ororo - did my brother force himself on you?"

She shook her head slowly, her wide eyes filled with tears. "No," she answered truthfully. "He tried to, but-"

"But you burned him," Thor finished.

Terror flashed behind her eyes. "I did not mean to," she started, the words bubbling out of her. "It has never happened before, ever. I just… I was frightened, and he would not listen to me, and I knew not what to do because there was no one else around-"

And suddenly, she was collapsing into his arms in a heap of sobs, heedless of her wet, naked body pressed against his, his cold armor biting into her flesh.

"Shh," Thor shushed her. "It's alright." He pushed her away from him slightly. "I need to take you to the healers," he explained. "They can do something about your ribs, and…" He hesitated. "And they can check to make sure that nothing was done to… damage you."

_Perhaps they may also find the source of this lightning Loki spoke of,_ he thought to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Ororo tried to sit up straight as the healer wrapped her ribs. She felt markedly less miserable than she had before they'd set the cracked bones, but she was still sore from all the poking and prodding they'd done - first to reset her ribs, and then to make sure she was still... _intact._ Though she'd wished it otherwise, Thor had insisted on being present for the entire examination, and Ororo's face was still flushed and warm with embarrassment at him having been there as her most intimate bits were poked, prodded, and put on display.

Thor watched Ororo's face carefully as the healer - Kätí was her name - wrapped her ribs. She'd not looked at him once since he'd brought her into the room, and he wondered if she were angry with him.

_For what reason would you care, even if she were?_ He asked himself.

He'd said nothing to the healers about the supposed lightning, and he knew she wondered why. The truth of the matter, though, was that Thor had been quietly considering the possibilities, and if what he supposed were true, he wanted no one to know of it just yet.

"This should help your ribs to heal," Kätí explained. "You mustn't lift anything heavy or stretch your side too strenuously, otherwise they will not heal properly." She turned to Thor, her expression a little more stern than the one she'd given Ororo. "My lord, please take care that she does nothing to exert herself too vigorously," she added.

Thor nodded his acknowledgment, saying nothing as Kätí exited the room, leaving master and servant alone together.

The thunderer approached the bed slowly. "Why did you not tell me?" He asked softly, and Ororo felt the edge of the bed depress as he sat down next to her.

"Would you have believed me if I had?" She answered his question with one of her own, keeping her eyes trained on her bare feet.

He considered the question thoughtfully. "I suppose I would have been skeptical," he conceded.

She was silent, and he wondered what she was thinking. The guilt still nagged at him, forcing him to remember that he'd ignored her distress and even added to it by striking her. The thought alone of what his brother had tried to do made his blood run hot with anger.

"I will take care of Loki," he asserted. "He shall not lay a hand on you again."

"Thank you."

The silence stretched taut between them, settling over them like an uncomfortable blanket. Finally, she spoke.

"I am just a slave," she started softly, tracing the patterns on the bed sheet with one finger. "I understand that. You may not realize it sometimes, but I have never forgotten my place." She sighed, finally lifting her head up so that her eyes could meet his. "It is not easy for me here. When I was chosen by my family to be offered up as a sacrifice to the gods in the sky, I had no idea how my life would progress from that point - or even if it _would_ progress," she added, thinking of her fear long ago that Odin would choose to accept her sacrifice by ending her life. "All I knew was that I wanted to do whatever I could to ensure that my family was happy, even if it meant I would never see them again."

"Sometimes," Thor started hesitantly, "I forget all that you left behind, all that you sacrificed."

"I remember enough for both of us," she replied quietly. After a moment of silence, she looked up at him again. "Why did you not tell the healers about my lightning?"

Thor graced her with a smile, and she was surprised at how much it transformed his face. "If it is, as you say, _your_ lightning, I wish to teach you how to work with it," he explained.

She gazed at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I know that it wasn't just the lightning," he said. "You changed the weather, too - there was wind, and rain, and thunder."

"But how did you know it was me?" Ororo asked, puzzled.

Thor smiled again, and this time, she smiled back. "It never rains on Asgard unless I make it so," he informed her. "When there is thunder and lightning and rain, it is because I cause it. When I learned of what happened when Loki… _attacked_ you, I knew that it was not I who had caused the change in weather. And so I concluded that it must have been you."

Ororo stared at him. "But how is that possible?" She asked. "I'm just a mortal. I shouldn't be able to control the weather. I shouldn't be able to control _anything._"

Thor shook his head, just as puzzled as she. "Perhaps, then, you are no mere mortal," he answered with a smile. "Perhaps you are more extraordinary than you know."

She knew not how to respond to that.

"_What does it feel like?" _

_Zula gazed at her younger sister with amusement, a smile quirking up the corners of her mouth. "What does what feel like, 'Ror?"_

_Ororo blushed. "You know." _

_Zula laughed, nudging her younger sister in the arm. "Of course I know what you're asking about. But I want you to say it."_

_The younger Munroe heaved a sigh, her eyelids fluttering as her face burned. "Sex," she said finally, expelling the word on a breath as though it were taboo. "What does sex feel like?"_

_Zula pursed her lips thoughtfully. "It's difficult the first time," she answered truthfully. "Your body isn't used to being… I suppose 'invaded' is the proper word… that way. And so, you must stretch to accommodate the length and girth of your partner's member. It isn't so bad, though. It stings a little, but once your body gets accustomed to it, the pain fades away."_

_Ororo mulled over this for a while. _

"_You aren't thinking about doing that anytime soon, are you?" Zula teased her younger sister with a smile. "Is there someone in particular you were thinking of when you asked?"_

"_No!" Ororo answered quickly. "There's no one. I was just… I was just curious," she added. "I think it's a somewhat... undesirable thing to do anyway."_

_Zula glanced at her sister knowingly out of the corner of her eye. "That will soon change," she laughed, and Ororo punched her in the arm._

"Like me, it is possible that you are able to affect the weather with your thoughts," Thor started, gazing up at the clear blue sky. "However, based on what happened with you and Loki, it is also possible that your effect on the elements is very closely linked to your emotions - when you are distressed, the weather conditions change to severe."

Ororo nodded, trying not to show how much this knowledge frightened her. "So you mean that, depending on my mood, the weather can change?"

Thor pursed his lips. "Yes, but not precisely," he answered carefully. "The weather may react to your extreme mood changes. When you are angry, or morose, or panicked - those are emotions that could cause severe weather changes."

She nodded again. "So how do I control it?"

"You cannot truly control it in the purest sense of the word," Thor answered simply with a smile. "But you can channel it." Ororo watched, her face a picture of awe, as Thor raised Mjolnir, the great hammer he wielded, to the sky, and a bolt of lightning caught on the edge of the metal as thunder rumbled in the distance.

"But you're not angry," Ororo shouted over the wind that had started to howl.

"No," Thor assented. "But if I focus on it hard enough, I can fool the weather into thinking that I am."

"How?" She watched as he pointed a bolt of lightning at an innocent tree, covering her ears when the electricity crackled between the branches and split the limbs from the trunk.

"By throwing all of my energy into the thought - that I want the weather to change, and so it must, because I will make it so." He smiled at her, bringing the hammer to rest on the soft grass at his feet, and Ororo marvelled as the sky instantly cleared up. "If you channel enough of your energy and focus into what you want the weather to do, the elements will respond."

"You make it sound easy," Ororo remarked.

"And soon, it will be," he allowed. "Show me your lightning."

Ororo gazed down at her hands. "I… I don't know what to do," she admitted.

"Remember what I told you about channeling your energy," Thor reminded her. "Focus your thoughts and your emotions on lightning. Reach out with your mind and speak to the electricity. You know it's there at your fingertips, hiding just beneath the surface of your skin. I want you to call to it, let it know that you need it, order it forth to do your bidding."

Ororo nodded, gazing up at the sky and pointing her fingers toward the clouds. She focused on the expanse above her and pictured, in her mind's eye, forks of white lightning.

Thor watched her, and to his amazement, the normally cerulean blue of her eyes had gone opaque, changing into the same milky-white tone of her eyeballs. Her hands stretched toward the sky, and the wind began to blow again. Sparks flew from her fingertips, tiny sparks of blue and white, and Thor smiled. She must have lost her concentration, though, for suddenly, she was collapsing to the ground, breathing heavily as her eyes returned to their normal color and the weather cleared up once more.

"Good," he said, helping her to her feet. "Very good."

"Do you always feel this tired after you do it?" She asked, trying to catch her breath. "I feel like I've run from here to the palace and back a dozen times."

"It will get better as you learn to regulate it," he explained. "Right now, you are still new to it, and you must learn to temper your power with your energy."

She nodded again.

"That is enough for today," Thor decided, taking one more look at her face. "As it is, if Kätí finds out what we have been working on, she will have my head."

Ororo laughed, stretching her side slightly and feeling her still-healing ribs stretch, too. "Thank you," she said softly.

He nodded at her, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, before turning to walk away.

"Ororo!"

She'd just gotten her gown off and was about to slip into the bath when she heard her name being called. She swore softly, gazing with disdain at the long gray dress she'd cast to the side, debating the merits of trying to get back into it before Thor grew impatient and called for her again.

"_Ororo!"_

_Too late._ She scrambled over to the clothing she'd worn during her free time the day prior, a tunic and wrap in the fashion of her tribe, slipping them both on quickly as she hurried toward the crown prince's bedchambers.

"Yes, I'm here," she managed breathlessly, closing the door gently behind her, lamenting the loss of a hot bath.

Thor stared at her from where he sat. She hadn't had time to braid her hair again, and it trailed around her like gossamer, falling in waves to frame her face. She was dressed in one of the short wraps she favored so much. The gold material stopped halfway down her thighs, and his eyes roamed over her dark brown skin, taking in her long, shapely legs. The tunic she wore was short, coming to rest just above her navel, and he drew in a sharp breath at the sight.

She was beautiful.

A throaty giggle broke the silence, and Ororo turned toward the sound.

"What in the Nine are you wearing?" The dark haired woman lounging behind Thor on his bed nudged him with her foot. "Has the crown prince of Asgard spent all of his family fortune on other things, so as not to have any with which to properly clothe his slave?"

Ororo clenched her fists at her sides, her face flushing in anger.

"Hush, Brigit," Thor murmured, turning to face her.

"No, really," Brigit continued, sitting up against the ornate headboard. "She looks utterly ridiculous, Thor." She stood, walking over to Ororo without a stitch of clothing on her body, and pulled at Ororo's tunic. "I knew you were a somewhat unyielding master, but I thought you at least properly clothed your servants."

Ororo snatched her tunic out of the woman's hands. "Please don't do that," she said quietly.

The woman cocked her head to the side. "I beg of your pardon?"

Ororo took a deep breath. "I said, please do not do that," she repeated.

Brigit narrowed her eyes, turning back to face Thor. "She is insolent," she remarked in a low voice, all the mirth gone from her expression. She turned back to face Ororo, her lip curling up into a sneer before she backhanded her.

Thor was on his feet in an instant.

Ororo held her hand to the side of her face, staring at the small woman in front of her in astonishment. Rage blinded her, streaking red across her vision, and before she'd even had time to realize what she was doing, she'd brought her own hand back and struck the woman's face. Ororo was no lightweight, however, and her blow landed on Brigit much harder than Brigit's had landed on her.

"Ororo, _stop!_" Thor shouted, his voice drowning out everything else as he snatched her hand back. The woman with the dark hair had fallen, and she gazed up at Ororo with anger and hatred in her eyes.

"I would suggest," Brigit started in a low, dangerous voice, as she rose from the place she'd landed when Ororo hit her, "that you collar and control your pet before she gets herself hurt."

Thor said nothing in response, gritting his teeth as he shoved Ororo back toward her own chambers. "Go on," he ground out, pushing her through the doorway.

"But she-"

"I said _go!_" He roared, shoving her through and slamming the door in her face. Ororo stared at the heavy wooden door in disbelief, listening as it was bolted from the other side.

She turned away abruptly, crossing the short distance between the door and her tiny bureau, snatching each drawer open and gathering clothes in her arms. She rooted around in her wardrobe for the cloth bag she'd been given in the event she'd ever need to travel, stuffing as much as she could into the bag before snapping it shut. She slid her feet into her boots, only casting one glance back at the bolted door adjoining her room and Thor's before throwing the bag over her shoulder and exiting her chambers through her main entrance.

"You didn't have to hit her."

Brigit rolled her eyes, focused on her reflection in the looking glass. "She is a _servant_, Thor," she remarked dryly. "She is not meant to talk back to her superiors. You obviously let her get away with too much of it."

He was only half-listening. He couldn't shake the image out of his mind, the image of Ororo's eyes right before he'd thrust her through the doorway adjoining their rooms. There had been shock there, anger… and something that his sinking heart realized was betrayal.

She'd felt he'd betrayed her. It had been clearly written on her face.

And maybe he had.

"Ugh," Brigit whined. "This is going to leave a mark."

Thor opened his mouth to respond, but the rumble of thunder stopped him. His eyes grew wide, and he crossed the distance to the window in a few long strides.

"Are you doing that?" Brigit asked, coming up behind him and watching as the sky lit up with flashes of lightning. The thunder rumbled again, so forcefully this time that he could feel the ground shaking with the impact of it.

"No," he answered truthfully, his heart sinking even further as he realized what was happening. "No, it isn't me."

She ran.

She didn't know where she was going, she just knew she needed to get as far away from him as possible. She ran so hard and so fast that her feet barely touched the ground, and she barely even registered the weather changes. Thunder was rumbling and lightning crackled all around her, but she heard nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing.

Nothing but the pain in her own heart.

She ran faster, and the wind howled in her ears, a constant companion as she covered the foreign ground that had become so familiar to her in the last two years. Rain began to fall, covering her in heavy sheets and drenching her, but still she ran.

How could she have been so silly? How could she have been so utterly foolish? To think he would stand up for her, to think he would take her side over a woman who shared his bed. Ororo laughed bitterly and without humor, and the wind roared.

She'd been loving him for a long time. Perhaps she'd always loved him, from the moment she'd first laid eyes on him, but it was only now that she realized it.

Ororo ran faster.

"Get out."

Brigit looked at him with round, wide eyes. "Excuse me?'

"You heard me," Thor grumbled, shoving her over the side of the bed. She landed on the floor in an ungraceful heap. "I said get out."

The tiny woman scrambled to her feet, throwing her hands up on her naked hips. "You can't-"

"I damn well can, and I will," he thundered, snatching her dress from the floor and flinging it at her. "_Now get the fuck out!"_

She stared at him incredulously for a moment more before heaving a sigh and yanking her dress up over her head. Silently, glaring at him with daggers in her eyes, she exited his chambers, slamming the door behind her hard enough to rattle the walls.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The storm was still raging outside, with a ferocity that Thor had never seen before, outside of his own abilities. Even as he puzzled with himself over what to say to Ororo, he marvelled at the extent of her abilities, and a part of him was pleased to know that she held such power in the palm of her hand. Had he ever met anyone that could match his power over the elements?

The thought gave him pause, and he hesitated a moment before pushing the door to her chambers open.

"Ororo?"

The room was dark, the only illumination coming from Thor's own room. He peered closely at the bed, and his brow furrowed upon realizing that it was empty. He could see beyond to the open archway of her bathing room, and that, too, was empty.

"Ororo," he called again, uncertainly. There was no answer, and dread settled into his bones with a chill. "_Shit,"_ he swore.

His heart began to beat frantically, his mind racing through the possibilities. He knew she'd run away. She was out there somewhere, alone in the storm that had been created by her own distress, in the dark and danger and unknown of an Asgardian night.

He needed to find her.

Ororo was exhausted. She'd run until her body protested, her still-healing ribs sore and aching. She'd followed her instincts to shelter in a small alcove, settling there as her emotions calmed a bit and the storm followed suit.

She rested her head on the soft, wet grass, her back heaving up and down as she sobbed silently. She was at a complete loss as to what would happen to her now - she'd run away from her master, and she was sure that once she was found, she would be punished for it. And there was the matter of her family and her people; she'd been sent here as a sacrifice to curry the favor of the gods. Would her status as a sacrifice be null now? Would her family and her people lose the gods' favor because of her selfishness and impulsiveness?

But none of that mattered to her now. All that mattered was the pain she felt. She sobbed quietly into the crook of her arm, her tears falling faster and faster every time Thor's face flashed across her thoughts.

_You stupid, stupid fool,_ she scolded herself. _Did you really think he would reciprocate your feelings? Did you really think he would fall in love with his __**slave**__? He's a prince and a god, with his choice of women falling at his feet and into his bed. What would he need with a lowly human woman? A servant, no less?_

The truth was, though, that even though she knew it unlikely, she'd hoped for it just the same. He'd not been cruel to her in a very long time. He'd even been kind to her on occasion, showing her glimpses of the person he was when he wasn't trying hard to fulfill the role of the entitled crown prince of Asgard.

And sometimes, she would see the way he'd look at her, and she would wonder if there was something more there, something more than just the relationship of a servant and her master. He'd look at her, with those stormy blue eyes of his, as if he were trying to look at who she was under her skin, trying to get a glimpse of the person she hid beneath her subservient exterior.

As if he wanted to know who that person was.

The way he looked at her when she wielded the power of the weather, when she bent the elements to do her bidding as he'd taught her. He looked upon her with something that was close to respect, something that even bordered on awe at times. Those were the looks that encouraged her to continue honing her abilities, to become as skilled at manipulating the weather as he was. It was those times, when she held the elements in the palm of her hand, and he looked at her that way, that she felt invincible.

There were other looks, too, like the ones he would give her whenever she happened to be wearing the garb of her people around him. She didn't miss the way his eyes roamed over her figure, lingering just a little bit longer than necessary on her legs or her breasts. Sometimes, when he looked at her that way, she thought she could see lust in those blue eyes of his, and it made her wonder what it would be like if he took her and did to her what he did to the other women who shared his bed.

But Ororo knew that what she felt for Thor wasn't just because of her physical attraction to him, or her desire to be with him intimately. Odin had told her once, that she and Thor were of comparable age. And though she knew that technically, he was much older than her in terms of the years he'd lived, she also knew that in relation to their life spans, they were at the same stage in their lives. It made Ororo admire Thor all the more, to see what he had accomplished in the relatively few years he'd been living.

She'd listen as he told of his accomplishments, the worlds he'd traveled to, the things he'd done. At the end of the day, he would come back to his chambers, tired - not just from the vigorous physical training he did every morning with his sparring partners, but from the strenuous diplomatic and political training he was receiving. Some day, when Odin was ready, he would pass the throne on to Thor, and Ororo knew that the station itself was more than just a figurehead position. Thor would, at some point in the future, literally hold the fate of the universe on his shoulders. That was no small task. But despite this, despite knowing that his future was sealed in such a way regardless of any desires he may have had contrary to it, Thor had accepted his fate with grace.

He was clever, too - though Loki was often thought to be the scholarly one, Ororo had sat and listened with rapt attention many a time as Thor broke down something she'd considered to be impossible to comprehend, and made it understandable to her… Such as the time he'd explained Yggdrasil, the World Tree, to her. Or how, to her surprise, he'd been able to effectively explain to her how gravity worked.

All those things comprised a man she would have yearned for, had she found such a man back home in her village. And though he had his faults, like any other proud young man, Ororo was wise enough to see that all of the desirable qualities he already manifested, if he continued to cultivate them, would make him a wonderful king.

_And one day, _she thought bitterly, the taste of jealousy already in her mouth, _he will choose a queen. Or a queen will be chosen for him - someone who can match him in every aspect, someone who compliments him perfectly, not just in intelligence or prowess, but also in station in life._

And Ororo knew that would never be her. She was an alien of this world, forever destined to be, not at Thor's side, but in the shadows, where a servant of the crown prince - and someday King - belonged.

"_It is a great thing you are doing, Ororo," her mother told her solemnly, weaving tiny glass beads through Ororo's hair as she braided it. "Many young women would consider it an honor above no other to be called to such duty."_

_Ororo swallowed around the lump in her throat, not wanting to contradict her mother, but not altogether believing what her mother was saying. "Then why could not one of them go in my place?" _

_The words had slipped out before she'd known she was thinking them, and her mother's fingers stilled in her hair. After a moment, they resumed their methodic braiding, but her mother remained silent._

"_You think me ungrateful," Ororo surmised. _

"_I think you have not realized what an opportunity you have provided us with," her mother answered carefully. Anyeh Munroe was not insensitive to what her daughter was feeling, but the decision had been made, and there was nothing she could do to change it. "It has been years since the gods came down to our village. It may be years yet before they return. You must understand that we need them, and whatever we may do to curry their favor must be done."_

_Ororo was silent for a long time as her mother's fingers worked through her snow-white hair. "Even if it means I will never see you again?" She asked finally, her voice low and wavering._

_Anyeh took a deep breath, swallowing around the lump in her own throat as she pasted a smile onto her face. "Come," she said, patting the finished braids. "We mustn't keep them waiting."_

She wondered if her family knew about her uncanny connection to the elements. Perhaps it was why they'd sent her away, why they'd chosen her over the other young women in the village. Ororo considered this, and fresh tears began to fall from her eyes. This time, though, they were tears of anger at her family. _How could they have abandoned me that way? _

There was nothing to be done for it, she decided. She would live life on the outskirts for as long as it took. Surely Thor would find another servant to fill her place. Surely she was not worth wasting precious time to look for. She sat up, listening as the rain abated and the wind calmed down.

_And what about your family, your village?_ Came the creeping voice of doubt in her mind. _By running away from your duties, you would be abandoning them, not unlike the way they chose to abandon you._

_They chose this,_ she answered the voice angrily, clenching her fists at her side. _I never asked for any of this. No one had to sacrifice but me. My family didn't even care!_

_**Crack!**_

A flash of forked lightning descended from the sky, striking the ground with tremendous force and splitting a nearby tree nearly in half. The lightning continued to flash, just as the anger bubbled up from somewhere deep inside of her. The rain had started to fall again, in thick heavy sheets that made visibility impossible in the black of the night. Ororo hardly noticed as she gave into her emotions, letting the elements surround her, comfort her, envelop her in their fury. Only when she opened her eyes did she realize that her wind had carried her off of the ground, lifting her up into the air high above the landscape of the Asgardian outskirts.

_And is it not peculiar, _she thought with a strange smile, _that this storm is more comforting than anything I've felt in two years' time?_

Ororo laughed, and the storm laughed with her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"_You would make a fearsome warrior."_

_He uttered the words quietly, almost to himself, and looked surprised when he realized that he'd spoken them out loud._

_Ororo was looking at him, curiously, her head cocked to the side, and Thor got the impression she was searching his face for dishonesty. It was the way Loki looked at him sometimes when Loki thought Thor was telling a falsehood. _

"_Truly you jest," she finally said, turning her head away from him. _

"_I do not," he countered. He motioned to her hands. "You may have the hands of a lady and a servant, but your body hides a strength that would give even the Lady Sif pause."_

_She laughed out loud then, quite sure at this point that he was poking fun at her. "Perhaps it is all the lifting of your heavy breakfast trays, my lord." She clapped a hand over her mouth, then, and her pulse quickened as she braced for the scolding that would come as a result of her jest. _

_There was no scolding. She glanced quickly at him, and her eyes widened at the sight. His shoulders shook with quiet laughter, and the corners of his eyes crinkled up in mirth. _

"_And your wit is rarely to be matched," he said once his laughter had subsided. _

_Ororo smiled, then. "You truly mean that?" She asked._

"_I do not lie to you," he answered. _

"_Then teach me," she said suddenly. _

_His brow furrowed. "Teach you?"_

"_Yes," she answered excitedly. "I have often wondered if I would have learned the ways of a warrior had I stayed with my people. It is something to be desired, where I come from, that a lady should know her way, not only around a household, but also around a battlefield." _

_Thor raised his eyebrows. "Your culture is a progressive one," he started slowly. "The Lady Sif endured many trials on her road to becoming a warrioress."_

"_Does this mean that you will teach me?" _

_He considered this for a moment. "Allow me to think on it," he finally answered. "I will give you an answer by week's end."_

He never did, though, Thor remembered, with a pang of regret. As things often did, the question she'd asked fell by the wayside, never to be picked up again.

_Perhaps if I'd taught her the ways of a warrior, she might have been able to better defend herself against my brother._

_Perhaps she would have known the calm, collected discipline of a warrior, and not lashed out at Brigit._

_Perhaps she would never have run away._

"What troubles you, my son?"

He turned from the window at the sound of his mother's voice. Her eyes were warm, as they always were, but so very wise. For just a split second, Thor debated with himself whether a lie was in order. But Loki was the one who had always been skilled at hiding the truth, not he.

"Ororo has run away," he answered, softly.

Frigga moved further into the room, taking in the disheveled bedclothes and general disarray of the room. "What has frightened her so, that she prefers the dangers of an Asgardian night to the warmth of your bed?"

Thor shook his head, catching his mother's words and processing them slowly. "You misunderstand," he started. "She…" He shook his head again. "I allowed another woman to strike her."

"For what reason?" Frigga's tone was neutral.

He sat heavily on the edge of his bed. "She is not fond of Asgardian garments," he started slowly. "Whenever she can, she dons the garb of her people. And although it is different from anything Asgardians are wont to wear, it is not necessarily… unattractive."

Frigga nodded, but said nothing.

"Brigit made fun of her clothing," Thor continued. "She even pulled at Ororo's tunic. I should have sent Ororo away then. I should have foreseen what was coming, but I was too slow to react to what was happening. And perhaps I reasoned with myself that she would never-"

"Thor," Frigga interrupted gently. "Tell me what happened."

"Ororo asked her not to do that, and Brigit struck her across the face," Thor continued miserably. "Before I could even grab hold of her, Ororo had retaliated with a blow of her own."

Frigga was silent for a long time, so long that Thor looked up to make sure his mother was still there. To his surprise, her shoulders shook with laughter.

"Mother?" He asked uncertainly.

"I have often wondered," she started, taking a deep breath to compose herself, even as the corners of her mouth still quirked up in amusement, "why you allow that empty-headed strumpet into your bedchambers so often."

Thor gazed at her in surprise. "I… what do you mean?"

"I have never liked Brigit," Frigga stated plainly, "and I cannot say that I am unhappy Ororo decided to retaliate."

He gaped at his mother.

"Oh, don't look at me that way," Frigga replied. "You and I both know that Brigit does nothing for you but warm your bed." She gazed at him closely. "Ororo, however… you have grown fond of her, haven't you?"

"She is my servant," Thor answered quickly. "It is my duty to ensure that she is safe."

His mother looked at him for a long time without speaking. He shifted uncomfortably under that seemingly all-knowing gaze.

"And is that all?" She asked, finally, her voice still neutral.

He sighed. "What do you ask of me, mother? Speak plainly."

Frigga joined him at the edge of his bed, putting a hand on his arm as she sat. "I have seen the way you look at her," she started, choosing her words carefully. "She may not yet know it, but you are fond of her. More fond, I think, than even you realize." She paused for a moment. "I dare say you love her."

"She is my _servant-"_

"And does that make her any less of a woman?"

He fell silent at that.

"She is mortal," Frigga continued, "and all the better for it. She does not lack compassion, like some of the immortal women you keep company with. She has an understanding of the emotions of beings who are ephemeral. She is clever. She is a hard worker. Do not forget what sacrifices she made to come here, leaving behind her family and her home. And," Frigga added with a smirk, "her beauty rivals even the most attractive beings in the Nine Realms."

Thor rolled his eyes at his mother's bluntness, but he could not argue her point.

"More than that, though," Frigga continued somberly, "she cares for you. Not just in the way that young women looking for a way to be connected with the throne seem to care for you. But in the way of someone who knows _you,_ who has seen you for what's inside, not just what is in your future. I can see it in the way that she looks at you when she waits on you. Never have I seen a servant so attentive, so utterly satisfied to carry out her duties, even if sometimes she falls short of everything you expect of her."

He was staring at his mother in surprise now. "You've been watching us," he surmised.

She nodded. "From a distance, yes," she answered truthfully. "You know, Thor, that I have never been one to meddle in your - or Loki's - affairs. I trust the judgment of my sons. I know that I raised you both to make wise decisions." She chuckled softly. "And would you allow Ororo more time outside of these chambers, perhaps she would be a little more well-adjusted in the ways of Asgard, perhaps make some new friends, and not have reason to miss her home so much."

He considered this. "What would you have me do?"

His mother pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Go find her," she answered. "She is alone out there. She is hurting, and frightened, and upset. Perhaps it would ease her pain to know that her master isn't quite the tyrant he's made himself out to be."

His face flushed with embarrassment at the truth of his mother's words. "Mother," he started hesitantly. "There's something else."

She said nothing, but her eyes urged him to continue.

"Ororo is special," he continued, carefully choosing his words. "She's been gifted with powers. Powers not unlike my own," he clarified at his mother's look of confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"The storm," Thor explained. "The storm that happened just a while ago." He shook his head. "That was not my doing. It was hers."

Frigga chewed over this for a moment. "How long have you known this?"

"For a while," he answered truthfully.

"And how did you… how did she discover this?"

He shifted uncomfortably, hesitating.

"My son, speak truth to me," she prodded him gently.

"Loki… attacked her," he sighed reluctantly.

Frigga's eyes widened.

"Nothing happened. Well, nothing to spoil her...virtue," Thor added. "Loki took it upon himself to take her virginity. She fought him off, and though he landed a few blows to her ribs, she burned him with lightning - from her fingertips."

He could see the wheels turning in Frigga's head as she processed this information.

"I have been teaching her how to harness it," he continued. "She has made tremendous progress."

His mother nodded. "All the more reason for you to go find her," she concluded finally. "For who else will teach her if you do not?"

He stood, and Frigga put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Have care with her, Thor," she stated quietly. "She may love you, but in her eyes, you have scorned her - you chose to side with another woman over her. Trust is something very hard to earn, and very easy to lose."

He nodded once more, silently, before venturing out into the night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Ororo dreamed fitfully, of a storm that would not abate. It was a frightful storm, the likes of which she had never seen before, caused by her own hand. She awoke suddenly, her heart pounding as she sat up in the soft, wet grass.

Night had passed quickly as she slept, the storm tapering off as her emotions calmed, and the Asgardian morning greeted her as it always did, with sunshine and warmth. Ororo worked the kinks out of her limbs, stretching her arms and legs and arching her back to work out the stiffness there.

She paused mid-arch, her eyes wide.

"How… how long have you been there?" She asked slowly.

Thor shifted where he was, his back against the massive tree she'd been lying at the foot of. "Long enough to know you had a nightmare," he answered.

She gazed at him for a long time. There was no anger in his golden features, nothing to indicate he was visibly upset with her. At the same time, his expression was unreadable, and she wondered what he was thinking behind those stormy blue eyes of his. Ororo cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably. "I am sorry-"

He held up a hand, and she fell silent immediately, a jolt of fear spiking through her chest.

"When I was very young," he started, his eyes on a point somewhere in the distance, "my father told me that one day I would inherit the throne. He explained to me, in great detail, all the things that were involved in being a good king. Of course, at the time, I thought nothing of it, and most of what he told me went over my head, to be forgotten in favor of the next meal or game."

The corners of his mouth turned up into a wry smirk, but Ororo's nerves would not allow her to share his smile.

"There is one thing he told me, though, that I will never forget," Thor continued, and his eyes met hers. "He once told me that the most important thing a king can remember is never to mistreat those that love him, for it is their love that can enable him to accomplish anything he wishes." He shook his head. "I wish I had remembered that in regards to you."

Her brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"I have been blind, and foolish, and selfish, and arrogant," Thor explained. "And it is I who should be apologizing to you for it." For the first time, she noticed that he was not wearing his armor. He was dressed simply, in plain leather breeches and a red tunic. She thought it suited him well.

"Ororo," he started again, looking into her eyes. "It has taken me two years to realize what I feel for you. The moment I laid eyes upon you, the day that my father presented you as a coming of age gift, I thought to myself, 'Surely this is a goddess. Surely my father is trying to fool me, to make me out dull enough to believe this divine being a human.' Your beauty," he continued, "is the kind of beauty that brings mortal men to their knees - and what of a god?" He knelt down, bringing his knees to the earth where she sat. "But more than your beauty is at the forefront of my mind when I think of you," he continued. "You sacrificed everything to come here. You gave up your home, and your family, and everything that you held dear, to come here and be a servant to a fool who cannot tell his right hand from his left."

Despite herself, she smiled. "If that last were true," she started, "you would not have lived so long a life as a warrior."

He shook his head. "Perhaps it is merely a matter of luck being on my side," he countered.

Ororo didn't know what to say to that.

"I have allowed mistreatment of you to go on for far too long," Thor continued. "My own mistreatment included. I am sorry that I allowed Brigit to strike you - it was not her place."

Her expression hardened at the woman's name, and this did not escape Thor's notice. She was stonily silent.

Thor took a deep breath, as if what he was about to say would be difficult for him to get out. "It was… it was not my place, either," he said, and though his voice was gruff, she could hear the underlying sincerity.

Still, she said nothing.

"You think me unkind," he surmised.

Her eyes met his, and she hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I do not think," she started slowly, carefully, "that I mean quite as much to you as you would have me believe."

"Why think you that way?"

She dropped her eyes to the ground. "Would you have me speak freely?"

He nodded. "There are no secrets between us, Ororo. What you say to me here and now, say, not as a servant to her master, but as one being to another."

"With your lips you proclaim that you care for me," she began, twisting a blade of grass between her fingers, unwilling to let her eyes meet his again for fear she would lose her nerve. "But with your actions, you prove otherwise."

"Explain," he demanded, but his voice was not harsh.

"Day in and day out, you scold me for being clumsy and mortal," she said softly. "I know that I can never possess the grace and self-assurance of the goddesses born here. I do not expect to. But you wound me, when you berate me for something I cannot control."

"Ororo," he started, realizing the truth to her words but wanting to explain himself. "It isn't because I do not care for you that I say those things."

She looked up at him, finally, and her eyes were doubtful.

Thor sighed. "Perhaps my vanity will be my downfall - I care too much for what others think of me."

Confusion filled her face, but she said nothing.

"The relationship between a master and his servant has been set in stone," he explained, "from days long before these. Ororo, why do I give you free time?"

"To be rid of me when you are occupied with your friends," she answered him immediately.

He shook his head. "No. You misunderstand my intentions."

She raised an eyebrow. "Please help me understand."

"There are those that would mock you, because you are different, because you are not of Asgard. You saw this in Brigit. Asgardians are not open to change, and anything that comes along that is different from what they are accustomed to is something to be poked fun at, something undesirable. I wished not to expose you to that by forcing you to accompany me to the training grounds."

Her brow furrowed.

"I know that you are not comfortable in the gowns Asgardian women are wont to wear," he continued, reaching out a hand to finger the tunic she was wearing. "And should I speak truth to you, I would tell you that I prefer the garb of your people."

"Truly?" She asked him with wide eyes, scarcely believing it.

"Truly." He answered with a smile. "Perhaps you are not the most graceful woman I have ever encountered, but you must know that every time you stumbled, and I caught you, it was not to save myself from embarrassment, but to save you from harming yourself." He sighed again. "I suppose I have been going about this all wrong."

"I was so angry at you," she started, watching as his finger traced the embroidery on her wrap. "So angry at you, for allowing that woman to strike me. So angry at you for not defending me, for not taking my side against her."

"And you very well had a right to be," he interjected. "I promise you, though, that it will never happen again."

She fell silent, considering his words.

"I will see to it that Loki is dealt with," he continued, and the anger in his voice echoed the thunder that rumbled at his words. "He had no right to touch you."

His words struck something in her, and she glanced up at him sharply. Her face was flushed, but not in anger.

"What is it?" He asked, peering at her closely.

"Will you?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she forced herself to hold his gaze though her heart pounded hard in her chest.

Thor cocked his head to the side. "Will I what, Ororo?" Somehow, he knew what she was asking.

But he wanted her to say it.

She took a deep breath. "Will _you_ touch me?"

He looked at her for a long time without speaking, watching her emotions flicker across her face as he tried to sort out his own feelings. Somewhere, deep down inside, his heart told him that this was what he had been waiting for all along.

Silently, he offered her a smile and his hand, and she accepted it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"You're trembling."

He whispered the words in her ear, and Ororo's limbs shuddered even more violently, the nervous tremors in her stomach fluttering in a wild staccato. She was sure he could hear her heart beating frantically against her ribs as he held her close.

"Are you afraid of me?" He turned her around to face him, holding her out at arm's length.

She shook her head. "No," she answered truthfully. "But I _am_ afraid."

He put his palms to her cheeks, cupping her face in his large hands and gazing into her blue eyes. "What are you most afraid of?"

She inhaled deeply, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to even out her breathing and calm her heart. "The pain," she finally answered quietly. Her face flushed warm as she glanced quickly down at his body. "I've never-"

"I know," he interjected, smoothing her snow-white hair back from her face. "And while I cannot promise you that there will be no pain at all, I _can_ promise you that I will be as gentle as possible."

She took another deep breath.

"We don't have to do this, Ororo," he said quietly.

"I know," she answered softly. "But I want to."

He searched her face for a long time. "You're certain?"

She nodded. "I want nothing more… I've wanted nothing more for a long time."

He chuckled, and just for a moment, the arrogant prince that she'd met when she first arrived on Asgard resurfaced. "You desire me so?"

She blushed again, nodding her head almost bashfully, and it was the most endearing thing he had ever seen.

"Then we are equal to the task, Ororo… for I desire you so, as well."

She looked up into his face, searching his eyes for any hint of teasing, any iota of insincerity. She found none.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, his breath ghosting over the shell of her ear as he leaned in close to her.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Then I promise to take care of you," he answered, smiling down at her. "But you must promise to do everything I say. Do we have a bargain?"

She smiled back at him, lowering her lashes playfully. "Surely, my master, you must know that is not a new task for me," she replied coyly.

He chuckled again, reaching around her waist to playfully swat her behind. "Go to the bed and wait for me."

She did as she was told, climbing up into his bed, the bed that she'd seen every day of her life for the last two years. The bed she'd watched other women climb in and out of, but had never been in herself. She paused at the edge of it, running her fingers along the smooth satin of his crimson and gold sheets, before stretching out on it.

He watched her lie flat on her back, her face turned up toward the ceiling, apprehension apparent in every muscle in her body. She was truly beautiful, lying in his bed, waiting patiently for him, the nervousness of an untouched maiden plain in her trembling limbs. He gazed upon her for a moment more before walking into his washroom.

Ororo tried not to think too hard about what was to come. Here was the moment she'd been wishing for, for so long now, the moment that she'd often dreamed about in her sleeping hours and her waking ones. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation, and she cocked her head to the side curiously as she heard Thor rummaging around in his washroom - for what, she did not know.

Finally, he emerged, a smile lighting up his face and a small flask in his hands. She sat up slightly, her eyes following his every movement. He'd removed his clothes, and even as she blushed, Ororo marvelled at how she never got tired of the sight of his beautifully bronzed body. He was truly magnificently built, truly a god.

He joined her on the bed, setting the flask down on the bedside table. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes roving up and down her form hungrily, like a man starved. He reached out, running his hands over her bare legs, and Ororo shuddered at the sensation of his calloused palms against her smooth skin.

"For so long," he remarked, "I have wanted to touch these legs, to feel this soft, beautiful skin beneath my hands."

"I should hope the reality has not disappointed your expectation," she answered quietly.

"How could it," Thor replied, "when it is everything I had hoped for and more?"

She blushed, smiling at him shyly.

He ran his hands up her hips, unfastening the ties there that held her wrap together. Carefully, slowly, he peeled the material away from her skin, his face lighting up when he saw how bare she was beneath it. His eyes met hers, and her face flushed even warmer. "Are you always…?"

Ororo nodded. "Beneath the clothes of my people, yes."

He couldn't help himself. He leaned down, pressing his face to that lovely center of hers, gently pressing his lips to her mound. Ororo squirmed beneath his attentions, and his strong hands held her fast as his tongue darted out to taste her, his stubble tickling the insides of her thighs.

"Oh," she cried out softly. "_Oh."_

Had his mouth not been so occupied, he would have asked her if she was pleased with his ministrations. As it stood, he didn't need to; the trembling of her legs, the breathless whimpers and moans, and the clenching of her muscles all answered his question for him.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently as her release drew nearer and nearer. She writhed and squirmed on his sheets, her mind gone blank with sensation, stars exploding behind her eyes. She felt her climax start from deep within her, working its way out to every inch of her body, bursting free finally in a flash of white hot pleasure.

"Thor!" She cried out, and that one word from her mouth, his name as she called it out at the height of her pleasure, was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. He kissed her gently, slowly, letting her ride out her climax, watching her over the curve of her abdomen, delighting in the sight of her flushed face, tightly closed eyes, and slightly parted lips.

"I've never…" She breathed heavily, trying to regain her composure. "I've never felt _anything_ like that."

He smiled at her, licking her essence off of his lips as he slid up her body. "And was it to your liking?" He asked softly, reaching around her to undo her chest bindings.

She nodded, still unable to form the words she needed to describe the feelings he'd given her.

As the material fell away from her chest, Thor drew in a breath. "Truly, there is nothing so beautiful in all the Nine Realms as you," he remarked, sitting back to just look at her.

"You flatter me," she giggled. "I am starting to doubt the sincerity of your compliments."

"Don't," he rebutted, leaning down close to her. "I mean every word that I say, Ororo."

She opened her mouth to respond, but suddenly his mouth was on her skin, his lips latched to her left breast and his hand palming her right. She arched her back into his touch, gasping as he rolled one nipple between his fingers and lapped at the other with his tongue, alternating between her breasts. With every caress of his fingertips, every flick of his tongue, she could feel herself becoming more and more aroused as wetness rushed to flood her already-wet center. Beneath those sensations, she could feel the evidence of Thor's own arousal, hard and hot and pressed against her thigh, and just the thought of it made her moan softly.

He raised his head to look at her, letting her slip from his mouth with an audible pop, and Ororo thought she'd never seen so much lust in one man's expression. It terrified her, and excited her, and made her feel like a goddess all at once.

He slid further up her body, reaching over to grab the flask that Ororo had almost forgotten about. She gazed at him curiously, question marks in her eyes.

"You are wet," he explained. "So, _so_ very wet… and I cannot wait to feel your tight, wet heat around me. But I want this experience to be just as pleasurable for you as it is for me." He opened the flask, squeezing liquid onto his fingers, and Ororo watched as he slipped those two fingers inside of her. She could feel his fingers, moving around inside of her, spreading the lubricant along her walls. Finally, when he was satisfied with the amount he'd applied, he set the flask back down on the bedside table, turning to her with a smile.

"Now," he started, reaching down to place a pillow beneath her hips, elevating her towards him. "I want you to promise me something, Ororo."

She looked up at him. "What… what is it?"

He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, softly, enveloping her in his arms. "I want you to promise me, that at any time, if there is something I'm doing that hurts you, or that is too uncomfortable for you, you will tell me."

She swallowed around the nervousness she felt, trying to focus on the kindness in his face and voice, the way he was holding her, the tender way he'd dealt with her thus far. "I promise," she replied softly.

He nodded, looking at her for a moment more, before positioning himself between her thighs. He looked down, then, at the place where their bodies were to meet, watching as he slowly and carefully guided himself into her.

It was so unfamiliar to Ororo. She'd touched herself before, inserted fingers into that most intimate place on her body, but nothing she'd ever done to herself was anywhere near what she felt as Thor pushed into her, inch by inch. She could feel her body stretching to accommodate him, his intrusion of her made a little less uncomfortable by his careful preparation of her.

She gasped sharply as she felt his tip push up against the part of her that had never been reached before, by _anything,_ and he stopped suddenly, glancing down at her with concern etched in his golden features.

Ororo breathed deeply, trying to focus on something other than the stinging between her legs. "I'm fine," she managed. "It doesn't hurt much… please don't stop."

He hesitated for just a moment, before pushing in until he could go no further. Ororo squeezed her eyes shut tight, biting her lip hard.

"You feel _glorious,"_ Thor breathed, before leaning down to kiss her deeply.

She held on tight to him, her fingertips digging into the skin of his shoulders as he began to move. He started slowly, withdrawing from her only a little before pushing back in. Ororo gasped at each thrust, still holding tight to him as her body adjusted to his length and girth. The stinging subsided just a little, and she felt less like bursting into tears. Still, it was a strange sensation to have a man between her legs, but her heart skipped a beat when she remembered that the man between her legs was the one that she loved, and she wanted to cry for an altogether different reason.

Thor watched her face greedily, taking in every expression, every change, every little nuance that showed what she was feeling. She'd lied to him about the pain, but he could see the exact moment when the pain gave way to something else, and that was the moment he chose to reach between them, putting his fingers to where their bodies were joined, and stroke that sensitive little button he knew would bring her pleasure. She gasped again, arching her back, her hips rocking in rhythm to his as he caressed her there.

"Thor," she panted, scraping her nails over his skin, scrabbling at his arms, his shoulders, trying to hold on as she felt herself falling over the precipice of a climax once more. "Oh, Thor, I can't… I'm going to-" And she did, before she could even finish putting the thought into words. She came, hard, her muscles clenching so tightly around him that it stole his breath away, and he let out a surprised yelp as he followed her over the edge and spilled himself deeply into her.

This, too, was unfamiliar to her, and Ororo blinked rapidly as she felt his release, felt the warm rush of his seed as it filled her. He squeezed her tightly to him, uttering her name over and over again like a prayer, peppering her face and neck with soft kisses.

He disengaged their bodies gently, and Ororo winced at how tender and sore she was. She squirmed, feeling his seed trickle out of her, and whimpered a complaint as he left the bed, taking his warmth with him. He returned shortly with a soft, wet cloth, and rejoined her on the bed, his concentration on cleaning them both. When he was done, he left only to discard of the cloth before coming back and sliding into the sheets, pulling her close to him.

"And how was your deflowering?" He murmured into her skin.

She smiled, and it was the smile of a woman who knows a secret that she will never share. "It was everything I hoped for, and more," she replied, echoing his words from earlier. She paused for a moment, watching as he linked their fingers together. "I love you," she added softly.

"I love you, too," he answered, firmly and without hesitation. Ororo smiled, then, thinking that she had never been so content as she was at that moment.

_**A sacrifice is not a sacrifice without pain.**_

Her mother's voice echoed in her thoughts, and she batted the words away, knowing in her heart that there was no longer anything painful in the sacrifice she'd given.


End file.
